Planting Seeds
Right before I came to believe in Jesus, I went through something strange. I was in college and had been living on my own with a roommate. We had parties. We did a lot of things that I don't do anymore. I was not a believer at all. Then, for some reason, I felt a need to move home, back into the house I grew up in. I chose not to live on my own anymore. I don't know why my mom accepted me back, but she did. When I moved back, I was still going to school and working. But I left most of my old friends behind. Spent almost all of my free time alone.
I wanted to give something back to my mom, who had so graciously let me come back home without any explanation. She didn't want rent, so I bought flowers. Tons of them. I went to the nursery after work several times a week and bought more. First the front yard in a planter, and then on the side of the house, and then we were moving things out of the yard so I'd have more room to put in more flowers. I grew a few vegetables, but I needed beauty, so I covered the ground with daffodils and irises and blue grape hyacinth, the hills with daylillies and salvia and iceland poppies.
It was at that time that I started going back to church. I ran into someone who asked me to go, and so I went, just like that. For months, I would go, not sure if I believed in what I was hearing. But one thing was remarkable: the more I planted in my garden, the more what Jesus said made sense.
I've always liked these verses from Psalm 126:
Restore our fortunes, Lord,
as streams renew the desert.
5 Those who plant in tears
will harvest with shouts of joy.
6 They weep as they go to plant their seed,
but they sing as they return with the harvest.
I'm not sure why I liked them before. They don't have much to do with flowers.
But I was planting today...from the time I dropped my kids off at school to the time it was time to go pick them up again, and then again after we ate a very early dinner until the dark and the lightning and the big fat raindrops stopped me. I've always been a lazy gardener, scattering seeds wherever and seeing what comes up. But not today. I've invested quite a bit in this thing, spent more than a year collecting seeds. I want to do it the right way. I hauled manure in my wheelbarrow all over the place, working until I was out of breath. I raked until I had blisters and worked at making the rows as perfect as I could get them, on my hands and knees. I kept a log of what I planted, everything I did to make the rows and how the seeds were put into the ground. I'm working on a chart that will map the whole garden, so I don't forget what's where when things start popping up. And I'm nowhere near finished.
My body is dog tired. (My dog is also tired from running circles around me and chasing off any cows who might dare to near the fence. Never mind what happened with the crazy cat!) My back and the back of my legs hurt until I almost want to cry. But behind the pain is a sneaky sense of joy. I didn't weep as I planted my seeds, maybe because my life doesn't depend on my garden succeeding. But it hurt. It hurt in a way that tells me I did something good.
My next-door neighbor disc plowed my garden twice on his tractor. He ran the harrow through it to get the weeds out and ran another tractor with a makeshift contraption to help me get my rows laid out. Then he brought me a bucket of red potatoes to put in the ground. I have no idea why he cares enough about me or my garden to do this. My organic farmer friend came over with a truckload of manure eaaarrrrrly in the morning and got down on his knees to show me exactly how to get the most out of the manure I have. A Facebook friend wrote in today saying, "Dear God, please bless Jill's garden." I can't think of any reason anyone would care this much to help me when I didn't ask except that God is helping me along, and they will share in the harvest!
I look forward to what comes up in that field with a joy that is beyond my understanding, and Psalm 126 makes more sense than ever. The Holy Spirit used a sore back and a big ole manure pile to remind me of God's word. That makes me so happy.
Not everyone has to have a garden. People are different, and they connect with God in different ways. If you're reading this, I hope you find something that brings you as much joy as my garden brings me.
